


I’ll Be Home For Christmas

by myracingthoughts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Confessions, Darcyland Secret Santa, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Home for Christmas, Road Trips, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: Brock agrees to come home for the holidays with Darcy, posing as her boyfriend, since her parents won’t get off her back for being single.But Darcy might not have beenentirelytruthful about why she asked him…
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 26
Kudos: 149
Collections: Darcyverse Secret Santa





	I’ll Be Home For Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Meilan_Firaga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/gifts).



> I hope this brings you some joy this holiday season!

“So, let me get this straight…”

Brock Rumlow sat at a cafe table (which looked comically small compared to the buff and burly STRIKE team leader), black coffee long forgotten in front of him, staring at one Darcy Lewis. They’d done this a lot lately, sneaking chats and cups of caffeine between meetings and before work. 

But today, Darcy Lewis was doing something she tried desperately not to. 

“Your parents are driving you nuts about you bringing someone home for them to meet during the holidays…”

“Yep,” Darcy replied before taking a sip of her drink, signature red lipstick already printed on the rim.

“And _you_ want _me_ to come home with you?”

Looking at Brock from over the menu she was casually perusing, she nodded, “Mhm.”

Asking for favours wasn’t exactly one of her specialties, and this particular one seemed to be a curveball for the burly Brock. 

But, while he processed the request, her eyes wandered towards the too-tight shirt and that flash of silver chain around his neck. So, Darcy was happy to take in the view, waiting for him to get around to the root of his confusion.

“As a date?”

Setting down the menu, Darcy threw in her best puppy dog eyes for good measure, a little flutter of lashes to layer on the incentives…and maybe a hint of guilt.

“I mean, unless you have something better to do?” 

After all, she didn’t put on her best shirt (that wasn’t in the laundry pile) for nothing. Today, of all days, Darcy meant business, and Brock wasn’t about to thwart her perfectly concocted plan.

She watched his hands stop fidgeting with his SHIELD ID badge under the table, face smoothing out the confused wrinkles as he stared right back at her. Like he was waiting for a punchline that wasn’t coming.

“Nah,” Brock said finally, shaking his head as he reached for his coffee again. “My Ma and the rest of the family booked a Caribbean cruise months ago. They’ll be gone until new years.”

“Didn’t want to end up at the casinos with your aunts?”

She’d heard a story or two in their moments together.

Brock huffed a laugh, “Nah, I couldn’t guarantee I’d get the holidays off, so it was safer not to book it. You know how the job is.”

Darcy nodded. She did. But it was hard not to see the way it clearly ate away at him. That little crease in his forehead and the too-tight smile giving away the worry he wouldn’t say out loud.

“Anyway, of course, I wound up getting Christmas off anyway,” Brock mused, now sounding a little sad. “So it’d just be me and my couch.”

“See? I can’t, in good conscience, just leave you at home alone,” Darcy piped in, hand flailing in front of her as she tried to prove the point. “You’re practically obligated to come now. I don’t make the rules.”

“Well, if those are the rules…”

“They are,” Darcy said, smile slipping off her face as she suddenly realized her very not-religious family might not be the experience he was expecting. “As long as you’re alright with no midnight mass?”

“But I get a home-cooked meal?” Brock sounded a little too hopeful, eyes lighting up at the prospect.

“The best!”

“Then, I’m in.”

Something about that flash of teeth and dimples made her heart skip a beat. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel warm and cozy. And something about how quickly he agreed sent her stomach into knots.

* * *

Brock was early for their scheduled departure.

See, when Darcy Lewis of yesterday said they’d leave at six in the morning, she didn’t mean 06:00 on the dot. She meant rolling out of bed sometime between her third and fifth alarm and making it on the road just before the clock ticked seven. But Brock?

Brock missed that memo, which she immediately realized when her doorbell rang at 5:45AM.

It took everything inside of her not to squawk at him when she peeked through the peephole, having flown into some semblance of an outfit in the five minutes she took to answer. Grumbling the whole while. She flung open the door and was ready to give him some choice words when she spotted what was in his grasp.

“Coffee?”

She wasn’t sure whether it was the desperation in her tone or the grateful expression that had Brock snickering in the doorway, but either way, she’d take it.

“I’d say ‘good morning,’ but it looks like you’re not much of a morning person,” he snarked, handing her a to-go cup and a white pastry bag. “Even brought you a bagel.”

The frustration seemed to melt away at the first smell of caffeine and carbs.

“ _And_ you’re driving? Can you come home with me every holiday?” Darcy’s sleep-deprived brain realized how that could have sounded after the words left her mouth. “I mean—”

“Who am I to deny a girl a holiday wish,” Brock joked, snorting. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll be your fake date home as long as you need me.”

Darcy’s stomach twisted, but not for the reason Brock might have thought— not that he said anything. Their first hour on the road was spent arguing over which radio station to set the knob to.

But otherwise, it turned out that Brock was an excellent road trip partner— if the coffee and breakfast delivery wasn’t proof enough. They made it to hour three before they decided to pull over for a break, but Darcy hadn’t looked at the clock once since they got on the road.

She bought him a Santa-themed trucker hat as a thank you, sliding it on his head as they hopped back in his car.

“Really?”

“It suits you,” Darcy singsonged with a sly smile. “With your giving mood and generous spirit and all.”

She could have sworn she saw a little red in his cheeks there, something more than just the cold air.

It was hour four when the snow started, both of them cursing the pit stop as the white-outs slowed them to a crawl.

“Probably safer if we hole out somewhere and wait for it to blow over—”

“And get plowed,” Darcy added, no stranger to the trickiness of winter. “There’s a motel diner ahead.”

Brock turned them into the lot, making best guesses at parking spaces since the lines were long-covered. This was not a good part of town. Hell, she wasn’t even sure this was a part of a town at all, looking more like the seedy outskirts where the long-haulers outnumbered the locals.

But at least Brock was there, casing the restaurant through the front windows before they stepped inside. Ever a SHIELD agent.

Somewhere in the back of the diner, a jukebox was playing Christmas carols (The Chipmunks’ _Christmas Don’t Be Late_ squeaking just above the background noise), and there were only two other patrons (one she was pretty sure worked there) scattered through the booths. The smell of stale beer lingered in the air, but that was par for the course as far as diner dive bars went.

“Not exactly how I expected spending Christmas Eve,” Darcy griped, pulling off her melting snow-covered scarf and mitts.

Her mother would have had mulled wine and apple cider at the ready for their arrival— she could hear her aunts talking about it on the call she’d had to make, telling them they’d be delayed because of the weather.

But Brock looked more amused than frustrated, his hand pressed to the small of her back as he gently steered her towards a booth in the end. “Still better than sitting at home watching It’s A Wonderful Life alone.”

And, well, when he put it like that.

As much as Darcy had been trying to save her appetite for mom’s home cooking, based on the weather outside, it didn’t look like she’d get a chance anytime soon. She begrudgingly opened the menu, scanning the pages for something of interest.

Brock’s menu sat basically untouched on top of his plate to Darcy’s arched brow.

“You’re not eating?”

“There’s a trick to these places.”

Now Darcy was intrigued, “Really? Know a lot about motel diners, do you?”

She found herself leaning over the table, closing the gap between them as she listened for some sort of explanation. Brock smiled, leaning forward like he was letting her in on a secret.

“I spent a lot of time in ’em growin’ up,” Brock admitted with a breathy chuckle. “Dad was a truck driver, so he saw a lot of these joints. Always used to take me to his favourite ones when he was in town.”

“Were you close with your dad?”

“ _Was_ ,” Brock said, and Darcy suddenly wished she hadn’t asked. But before she could apologize, he shook his head, “It’s fine. He passed a long time ago. I was nineteen. And I always had Ma.”

“Well, cheers to Ma,” Darcy said with a smile. “Oh, what was that trick, anyway?”

The waitress took that very moment to slide in beside the booth, asking for orders with a straight face and bored tone. Her eyes kept flicking to the windows, watching the snow nervously, as Darcy made her choice. 

But when it came to Brock’s turn, he simply handed over the menu and declared, “I’ll have the special.”

And that was it. There was no question of sides or preferences, white or rye. Just a tilt of her head, a quick scribble and the clacking on her fingernails on the touchscreen monitor.

“Now, don’t try that everywhere,” Brock warned with a finger waggle not long after she slipped into the kitchen. “I have it on very good authority that the chef here isn’t a total asshole.”

Darcy snickered, shaking her head, “I won’t even ask how you know that.”

“I wouldn’t’ve told you if you’d asked.”

There was that smile again. That one that turned Darcy’s insides to goo and made her heart pound a little too loud in her ears. 

Sometime after they’d cleared their plates, that twisting feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. Brock was halfway through regaling her with a field horror story that she normally would have giggled excitedly to. But her smile started to slip as she remembered that guilt lurking beneath the surface, thrumming through her brain on repeat until she couldn’t take it anymore.

“I feel like I should tell you something,” Darcy started, her voice giving away her nerves. Brock looked a little taken aback by her interruption, straightening in his seat as she continued. “I uh, wasn’t entirely honest with you.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, my parents do keep asking about when I’m going to bring someone special home, but it wasn’t exactly _harassment_.”

Brock’s face was frustratingly neutral, back to subtle glare he’d honed a little too well in his SHIELD training. Realizing he wasn’t about to give up his true reaction, Darcy took a deep breath and continued.

“I overheard you were going to be alone for the holidays, and I didn’t want to leave you back at the Tower. And maybe that was out of line or pushy, but—”

“I know, Darcy.”

Her head snapped up to meet his eyes, heart racing, “You what?”

“I knew all along,” Brock added, reaching over to grab her hand. “I’m not mad. You’re a sweet girl with a big heart. Probably why I like you so much.”

“You—?!”

Darcy was speechless. For the first time in a long time, she couldn’t find the words to say ‘ _what the hell, Brock Rumlow_?’ or ask why the hell he’d agreed to go with her in the first place. She’d gone the lengths of making a detailed cover, knowing he wouldn’t accept unless it was of use to someone else. Knowing Brock was stubborn as all hell.

And then he went and did this? He _knew_?

But there was just that look and his thumb tracing circles into the back of her hand, her eyes darting between the two until she was almost dizzy with confusion.

“I’m closing up, folks,” the waitress called out, coat already in her hands as the lights in the kitchen started to flick off. “I hate to do this to you, but I’ve gotta rush you out.”

“Any news on when it’ll let up?” Brock asked her.

“Not tonight, that’s for damn sure.” She stopped, realizing they were probably in a bind. “Not sure I’d recommend going out there if you’ve still got more than an hour to go. Y’know, the motel would probably put you up? Should be plowed by mid-morning.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Brock said, handing her some bills to more than cover theirs along with a tip of their own. “Get home safe.”

“You too.”

Darcy and Brock hadn’t even had time to discuss their latest revelation, that tension still thick in the air as they braced the cold and headed into the motel.

“You’re in luck,” the receptionist proclaimed, returning with two key cards. “We only have one room left. One bed’s fine, right?”

It was like the universe was just out to punish them today. It wasn’t bad enough that they were stewing in _whatever this was_ between them, but now they had to insert the proverbial straw to break the potential camel’s back?

Darcy was just about to look over at Brock uneasily when his voice piped up beside her, “One bed is fine.”

Her eyebrows skyrocketed to her hairline, the corners of her lips pulling up into a soft smile as he tugged her into his side. Brock added in a low voice, “That’s alright with you, right?”

“As long as you don’t pull some chivalrous bullshit on me, Rumlow.”

He chuckled, “I think I’ll leave the chivalry to you, babe.”

Sure, this wasn’t exactly how they’d expected to spend Christmas, but they could have done a lot worse.

All things considered.


End file.
